In recent years, both psilocybin-assisted therapy and mindfulness-based practices have gained recognition for their powerful effects on mental health. Macrodose psilocybin interventions (20–30mg) have shown promise in alleviating symptoms of depression, anxiety, and even PTSD. Meanwhile, mindfulness meditation is a well-established treatment for similar conditions. But what happens when we combine the two?

There's a moment that happens reliably in psilocybin sessions—and in meditation retreats, and sometimes in therapy—when someone realizes something they've always "known" but never quite seen:

I am not my thoughts.

It sounds almost trivially obvious when stated directly. Of course you're not your thoughts. You're the one having them. But there's a difference between understanding this conceptually and experiencing it viscerally—watching a thought arise, recognizing it as a thought, and choosing not to follow it down its familiar corridor.

Most psilocybin facilitation protocols describe what happens: preparation sessions, the journey itself, integration afterward. Fewer explain why these elements matter—what each phase is actually doing, and how they work together to support lasting change.

This post is my attempt to articulate the thinking behind how I work. It's not a complete description of the protocol, which unfolds across multiple sessions and is tailored to each client. It's the conceptual scaffolding—the ideas that inform my choices as a facilitator.

Meditation and psychedelics have both played central roles in humanity's exploration of consciousness. Indigenous cultures across the world have worked with psilocybin and other psychedelics for millennia—in ceremony, healing, and spiritual practice. Contemplative traditions, developing primarily in Asia, refined systematic methods for training attention and investigating the nature of mind. These paths evolved separately, in different cultures, with different frameworks. But a growing body of evidence suggests they share deep mechanisms, and that combining them may produce effects greater than either alone.

People come to psilocybin work from many different starting points. Some are already in therapy and see a psilocybin journey as a potential catalyst for work they're already doing. Others have no therapeutic relationship and are seeking psilocybin for personal growth, clarity, or exploration. Some are somewhere in between—aware they're carrying something that might benefit from professional support, but uncertain what kind.